Countdown to Halloween
by thenerd1026
Summary: Costumes, kisses, and candy, oh my! Our favorite boys celebrate Halloween in this series of unrelated Halloween oneshots. Prompts are welcome. These are slash stories which means boyxboy. It's rated T for now, but it might be changed to M. :)
1. Meow

**I will be updating this frequently until Halloween. I'm also working on two stories for a fest on Livejournal. Those will be posted here soon. :) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This is for fun, not profit. **

* * *

Impossible. Just impossible.

'How," Harry began and cleared his throat around the rough squeak that slipped out, "is this happening?"

Ron scratched his scalp, his curious eyes glued on Harry like there was a horcrux hanging around his neck and it was poisoning his mind. He thoughtfully rubbed his chin and poked Harry's bicep. "I don't know, mate. Do you think," he gulped as the thought hit him like a hippogriff, "it's _permanent_?"

Harry sighed and gestured to his chest, his pulse racing as he tried to find a solution to the little problem. "Not until you said something," he shrieked, feeling slightly hysterical. "Merlin, Ron, what if I'm stuck with this for life?"

Ron, looking slightly devious in his bank robber costume gestured to the rest of the room where several people were dancing with each other or making out as the firewhiskey flowed. There was a naughty nurse grinding against a Quidditch player, a princess and a vampire were trying to reach the other's tonsils with their tongues, a man-sized golden snitch flitted about the room, a Gilderoy Lockhart lookalike was surrounded by several girls wearing costumes that barely covered any skin, and a cheerleader looking suspiciously like Pansy Parkinson was busy reaching into the pants of one Neville Longbottom dressed as a cowboy. "I don't think you have to worry about that."

Suddenly faced with the idea of losing the addition to his chest, Harry found that he already missed it. "But," Harry squirmed under the weight pinning him to the couch in the common room, "would it be a bad thing?"

"Wait," Ron fixed Harry with a curiously amused stare, "are you trying to tell me something?"

"What?" Harry shook his head harder than was necessary, "N-n-no. Of course not."

"One doth protest too much," Ron replied, leaning back in the armchair as he took in the sight before him. He smirked at Harry's stunned expression—eyes wide open and mouth gaping—before adding, "Hermione. She thinks Shakespeare is romantic."

As if just speaking about her was enough to solve all the world's problems, Ron's face lit up with unadulterated glee. His eyes scanned the Halloween party until they landed on a certain female cop with brown hair, currently dressed in a short—_barely there_—low-cut dress that just managed to cover up her nipples and grazed the top of her thighs complete with garter belt and fishnet stockings. The tiny badge stuck to her visible bosom glinted in the firelight as she sipped on some butterbeer and smiled openly at her boyfriend from across the room.

"That's so," Harry waved his hand in the air to find the right word that encompassed the growth on his chest and the mating ritual carrying on between his two best friends, "wrong on so many levels, Ron. I can't believe—this is just too weird."

"I don't think you have any right to judge," Ron said and pointedly looked at Harry's chest, "given the position you're in."

"This is not what—"

"Meow."

"Was that—"

"Did that just—"

Harry chewed on his bottom lip as his best friend stared at him with nothing but horror on his face. It was worse than the time they faced Aragog in the Forbidden Forest. "I think," Harry began and raked his fingers through his dark hair, "I'm in for a long night."

"Meow."

Ron eyed Harry as if the man had just told him that he was secretly a Death Eater and that Lucius Malfoy was the greatest hero to ever live. "That's disturbing."

"Meow."

"What am I going to do?"

"Meow."

"There's nothing to do, Harry. You're stuck," Ron chuckled darkly before getting to his feet. "Somehow I don't think you mind though," he shot his best friend a cheeky grin before he picked his way through the crowd and kissed his girlfriend soundly—complete with groping and caressing.

Harry shuddered. He did not need to see that—no one needed did.

"Meow."

Glancing down at the sounds emanating from his chest, Harry groaned and wriggled against the addition that had taken up residence there. He couldn't help the soft smile that played at his lips as he watched the cat curl against his body. Draco Malfoy, complete with skin-tight, leather cat costume and furry cat ears had claimed Harry's lap and snuggled into his former enemy's chest, floating in and out of consciousness through his drunken haze. Once or twice, Harry had had to stop the cat-man from licking his neck because he was, "a cat and you look like milk, 'Arry."

Truth be told, Harry didn't mind spending his evening wrapped in the arms of one Cat-Draco as the man cuddled against him and hissed at anyone that came remotely close to the couch they were perched on.

"My 'Arry," the man mewled and buried his face into Harry's chest, planting soft kisses against his sternum. "Meow."

Maybe it was impossible. Maybe Malfoy would regret his actions in the morning. But maybe, just maybe sometimes a Halloween party could hold some promise.

**Thank you for reading! As always, reviews are lovely!**


	2. The Incident

Tears were streaming out of Ron's eyes as his entire body shook with laughter. He was bent at the waist, gulping in air around chuckles and pointing at the blond hiding behind a small shrub. "He—" the redhead broke into high-pitched giggles. "He—" Ron tried again, but stopped when he fell to the ground in a yelp and continued his laughter.

"We know, Ronald," Hermione scolded and shot the blond an apologetic look, "we were all there."

"I don't think it's that funny," Harry supplied, fighting a smile.

With a pink blush staining his cheeks, the blond man huddled lower behind the plant in an effort to become invisible. Harry could hear his deep, shuddering sigh.

There would be no consoling him.

"Knock it off," Harry ordered, a scowl creeping onto his face on sheer principle. After all, it was his boyfriend Ron was laughing at.

"I—I—" Ron stammered out before another bout of laughter overtook him. "H-h-h-he—he—"

"For the love of Merlin, Ronald," Hermione screeched and kicked the redhead's shin, "it's not funny."

"He farted!" Ron crowed. "He got so scared he farted!"

Harry bit his lip to stop the chuckle that threatened to burst forth. He looked over at the shrubbery only to find that the blond had disappeared completely behind it.

"He screamed so hard that he farted!"

"We should have left him inside the haunted house," the shrub whined.

**Reviews are lovely!**


	3. Mine

Albus was ready to fight. Ducking his head like he was going to charge his target reminiscent of an angry bull, the green-eyed boy snarled and gnashed his teeth.

Well, maybe less of a bull and more like a werewolf, Draco surmised as he watched the little boy bite at thin air, clutching his stash of candy close to his chest.

"Mine," the Harry Potter clone growled and shoved an entire chocolate frog into his mouth and swallowed it without chewing. "You're trying to steal my candy," he accused the other boy on the floor.

"I am not," Scorpius shrieked in outrage, chewing daintily on a gummy newt.

"Are too," Albus countered and gestured to a Honeydukes chocolate bar. "That's mine and you took a bite out of it."

"No, I didn't," the little blond drawled complete with a perfectly arched brow. "That was you, Alby."

"Yes you did!" Albus screeched and jumped to his feet. "You took a bite out of MY chocolate with your big, fat mouth."

Candy forgotten, Scorpius scowled at his brother and rolled his eyes. "Stop acting like a hippogriff," he retaliated, his attitude would make any Malfoy proud—even a Malfoy-Potter.

Alby, face red and tears clinging to his thick eyelashes, stomped his foot and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're lying," he cried.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Take that back, Alby!"

"Make me!"

"I will!"

Albus wiped his damp cheeks and searched the room for backup. "Dad," he shouted and ran to Draco, rubbing his wet nose against his father's trousers.

"Daddy," Scorpius screamed when Harry Potter entered the room, munching on a sugar quill. Immediately Harry dropped his candy and rushed over to his son, hugging him tightly to his chest as he whispered calming words to the little blond. There was just something about seeing Harry with their kids that melted Draco's heart and just like it did every time, there was a gentle tenderness that washed over him at the sight.

Even after all these years, Draco was still unbelievably in love with Harry.

"Er, Draco," Harry called and stared at his husband, holding the candy bar that had started the argument between their two sons. He glanced down at the chocolate and back at the blond before he set his jaw as if he had come to a decision.

This did not bode well.

"Yes," Draco answered, hoping that his voice sounded sultry enough to distract his husband. Judging from the look on Harry's face, he added pouty lips and batted his eyelashes for good measure.

"Dray," Harry whispered and the intensity in the tone made the blond shiver and cling to his little Harry Potter look-a-like in a protecting way. No one was fooled. They all knew that Draco would use his son as a shield against his husband. "Our boys are fighting over this chocolate bar."

Looking at all possible exits, Draco saw the dangerous glint in his husband's green eyes as he slowly moved closer. "Yes," he whimpered, his voice trembling.

"A candy bar that you took a bite out of," Harry declared, holding up the candy in question.

"What? I don't know what you're—"

"The boys are watching," Harry cut in and smirked—a wicked smirk that did not make Draco want to melt into a puddle.

Before Draco had even realized he had been backing away, his husband had him pinned to the wall. "You have chocolate on your bottom lip," Harry murmured and licked—he _licked_—the spot of chocolate off of the blond's mouth. To the boys, Harry called over his shoulder, "What do you think Dad's punishment should be for lying."

Draco glanced over his husband's shoulder to see his two boys huddled on the floor, combining their separate candy piles and ignoring their fathers.

"I think it should be a spanking," Harry said against his husband's lips before delving his tongue inside.

Draco groaned.

Before they made their way up the stairs, Draco made sure to pocket the candy bar that started it all.

This was the best punishment ever.

**As always, reviews are lovely!**


	4. Drunken Confessions

**This is rated Rish :)**

Auror Potter was having a particularly substandard day. In fact, it was so terrible that said man had found the happy ending to his bad day at the bottom of a firewhiskey bottle the second his shift was over.

Now, he was swaying and tripping over his feet as he stumbled gracelessly down the hallway, his scarlet work robe getting caught on doorknobs and almost landing him face first on the floor. It was a good thing that the Auror was stubborn, otherwise he would have stopped halfway through his trek and found a nice spot to fall asleep, preferably against one of the walls.

Shockingly, the man made it to his destination without incident—well, there was the minor scuffle with the wall when he rounded an exceptionally sharp corner, but that was the wall's fault.

Staring through blurry, drunk-hazed eyes, he raised his fist and punched the door once. The movement sent his body swaying and he would have fallen on his backside if not for two graceful hands catching his shoulders and steadying him.

"Draco?" Harry asked blearily, glancing at the fuzzy blond man scowling at him.

"Potter," the blond's scowl deepened.

"You—you," Harry accused and fell forward, his nose connecting with the other man's chest. He sniffed and was rewarded with the smell that was entirely Draco Malfoy. "Draco," Harry murmured against the man's body, the lip movements sending a shiver through the blond.

"Harry, you're drunk," Draco drawled, stating the obvious.

"Draco."

"Yes, Harry. We've already established that my name is Draco," the man deadpanned and had the nerve to pull away from Harry. Didn't he realize that this was what he had been missing all day?

Harry whimpered and nuzzled the other man's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around him in a death grip. "Missed you," he whispered.

"Potter—for the love of—Harry, I'm not your little teddy bear," Draco admonished and wiggled against the drunken man's stronghold.

"No," Harry replied, his voice barely audible through the sleepy fog that had settled on the brunette. "More like my ferret."

"Potter!"

"My cute ferret," Harry declared as if he was making one of his official Ministry speeches. Except he punctuated every word with a kiss to the blond's neck.

"Harry!"

"Mmmmm," he hummed and licked the juncture where his neck met his shoulder before nibbling on the milky soft skin. "Good."

"Harry?"

The man in question lifted his head from its resting place and stared into the blond's perfectly gray eyes. Unlike the coldness that Harry was normally regarded with in the halls of the Ministry, Draco's eyes were soft and welcoming and Harry felt himself drowning in them. He knew. He knew that the little crush he had developed on the man more than a year ago was not a flashback to his sixth year obsession as Ron and Hermione often referred to it, but something more.

It had been over three years since they had both started working at the Ministry—Harry as an Auror and Draco as an International Ministry Liaison. It had been another year before the two could tolerate each other's presence in the corridors or the Cafeteria and another year before they had formed a tentative friendship.

They were both at the Ministry's Annual Halloween Ball when Harry had realized that he had fallen for the blond. He had gone as Dracula and Draco had gone as a French maid—complete with black corset, tiny, frilly, black skirt, a little apron that was almost bigger than the skirt itself, black eyeliner, fishnet stockings, and teeny tiny, lacey black knickers that had made Harry's brain explode. Needless to say, he had spent the entire evening trying to get a good look at the little panties—and he succeeded more than once—and trying to hide the evidence of his approval from his co-workers.

"Sexy," Harry mumbled when an image of the knickers flashed in his drunk-addled mind. He smiled dopily at the blond and kissed his chin. "Love you," he whispered against the man's skin, feeling the slight tremors travel through the blond's body.

"Harry," Draco whispered and the word sounded so tender and so, so soft to Harry's ears, "you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

"I do too," he argued, but the fuzzy call of sleep was clogging his mind. "I want you—us…this," he gestured between the two and accidentally hit his own face.

Draco's breathy chuckle washed over Harry like a sobriety charm, creating a simmering heat that coiled low in his belly. Merlin, he wanted that man. "Let's get you to bed," Draco said, guiding Harry into his flat and through the spacious sitting room.

"Sexy French maid," Harry commented on the memories replaying in his mind and pinched Draco's backside.

"Ow! Harry!"

Harry stopped, mid-trip and stumbled into Draco's chest again, not that he minded—he wanted to take up residence there. He could easily spend his entire life snuggled into Draco's embrace and not want for anything. "Wanted to fuck you all night," he added when his brain supplied him with the picture of Draco's perfect arse in his Halloween costume as he bent over to bob for apples. And bobbing for apples should not have made Harry want to test Draco's oral skills.

An uneasy silence settled between them, but Harry didn't have the strength to lift his head. Instead he cuddled closer to Draco, even going so far as to rub their groins together, eliciting a deep moan from the other man.

"Bed," Draco ordered after Harry had found the perfect rhythm. He ignored the groan from the drunken man and lightly pushed him in the direction of his bedroom. "If you can behave," Draco warned, "we'll see about that French maid costume in the morning."

With that, the blond smacked Harry's backside and sent him sprawling to the floor.

The following morning—and many mornings after that—Harry found that he liked being woken up by Draco Malfoy dressed as a naughty French maid.

As Harry slid into the other man—arse still clad in the tiny knickers—he knew that there were more Halloweens and more costumes to come for the both of them.

**Reviews are lovely!**


	5. Bicycle Shorts

There was no way that Draco could un-see that. Even the strongest _Obliviate_ cast by the strongest wizard was futile against the power of Ronald Bilius Weasley, sans Auror robes, with only the slinky material of skin-tight bicycle shorts covering his pasty, blinding, skin. And thinking about the Weasel's skin made Draco shudder and clamp his eyes shut.

"What?" the redhead bellowed—and Draco fought against the picture of Weasley's red chest hair and happy trail that assaulted his poor, delicate brain.

Merlin, Draco hated Halloween. It was the perfect excuse for cretins like the Weasel to torment innocent bystanders with their costume choices.

Turning his chair to face a more reasonable sight—not that Potter was any better, what with that unruly hair and godforsaken scowl he had been wearing for weeks—Draco peeled open his eyes and sat back in his seat. "Your costume is disgusting," the blond drawled and arched a perfectly tweezed brow. "Please do something about it."

God, he could see the redhead's nipples out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm a biker," Weasley scoffed and flopped onto the seat next to Potter. "Tell him Harry," he nudged his best friend who was conveniently looking anywhere but at the ginger.

"He's a biker," Potter deadpanned, chewing on his bottom lip even as his mouth curled into an impish grin that was decidedly not adorable or endearing in any way.

Draco fought his own smug smile and coughed to cover up the chuckle that threatened to overtake him. "God, Weasley," he sighed, taking too much pleasure in ruining Weaslebee's day, "bikers wear leather. Where did you get the idea that bikers wear," he gestured to Weasley's tight shorts, "_those_?"

"Well," Weasley blushed, his entire body turning as red as his hair, "Hermione called these biker shorts and Harry," he sent his best friend a murderous glare, "agreed with her."

For his part, Potter looked rather sheepish as he sank lower in his chair. It was in no way cute and did not make Draco want to snuggle him.

"Those are bicycle shorts, Weaslebee," Draco replied without bite. "They're designed so that you can pedal without your clothes getting in the way." He bit out a short laugh and slapped his knee—he couldn't help it, he was only human.

"Piss off," Weasley muttered when Harry joined in Draco's laughter. "Bloody hell, I need to find Hermione." Unfolding one of the case file folders littering his desk, the Weasel held it to his torso and clutched another one over his bits before racing out of the office in search of his wife.

From the sounds of shrieks and screams coming from beyond the door, Draco guessed he wasn't the only one mortified by Weasley's costume.

There was a moment of peaceful silence as Draco flipped through one of the case files and organized a list of witnesses. Potter loved it when Draco organized his notes—not that he cared whether or not Potter was impressed.

"Draco," Potter croaked out and cleared his throat, "what—er—what are you planning on going as for the Ministry ball?"

Tapping his chin with the tip of his finger, Draco stalled for time. How was he supposed to tell Potter that he had been trying for weeks to found out the other man's costume in order to _accidentally_ dress as his counterpart? And no, that did not sound at all pathetic to the blond.

"I don't know yet," Draco responded after a beat too long, feeling disconcerted by Potter's curious green gaze.

"I should," Potter began and pushed his chair away from the desk, its legs scraping across the floor as he stood and shuffled over to the door, "check on Ron before he says the wrong thing to Hermione." He opened the door and stepped into the corridor before turning to face Draco again. "Oh," he said as an afterthought, "I'm going as a streaker in case you were wondering. I'm completely naked under these robes." With a saucy wink and a simpering smile that set Draco's skin on fire, Potter sauntered away, his perfect arse wiggling in tandem with his steps.

Merlin, with the right motivation—and a naked Harry Potter was the perfect motivation—Draco found that maybe he had misjudged Halloween.


	6. Story Time

"Harry," Teddy said and crawled onto the man's lap, his electric blue hair visible even under the cowboy hat he was currently wearing, "would you tell us a story?"

"Please," the little Weasley children begged as they all piled around Harry, forgetting the adults around them which was hard to do since the Burrow was packed with just about everyone that he had ever met including some of the Slytherins that worked at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with George. Even Draco Malfoy was lurking around somewhere dressed as an angel in a form fitting white robe that showed off the angles of his body perfectly—

Harry shoved that thought out of his mind and focused on the little tykes snuggling in for a story.

"Can you make it scawy?" little Freddie, dressed as a dinosaur, asked as he crawled onto the chair and curled around Harry's left bicep, and promptly popped his thumb into his mouth.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, looking at their faces and trying to think of a story that wouldn't give them nightmares. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Malfoy, face glittering in the light, as he opened the door to trick-or-treaters and clapped delightedly over their costumes before plying them with candy.

"Yes," Teddy answered for the group, directing Harry's attention back to the children.

With his free hand, Harry scrubbed at his face and rubbed his chin. "I have a story about a Halloween night exactly two years ago," he began, and noticed Malfoy watching him intently. "There was a party just like this one and I was in charge of handing out the candy to all of the trick-or-treaters," he noticed Malfoy eyeing the bowl of candy like it was going to attack him. "The party had ended and I was cleaning up when there was a knock at the door. It was late, but I grabbed two handfuls of candy anyway and opened the door to two children standing on the front porch. Only—"

He paused and watched as the children leaned in close, so close that Princess Victoire looked like she was about to fall over. Incidentally, Malfoy, had scooted further away from the door and was slowly inching his way over to Harry.

"—they weren't wearing costumes. In fact, they were the strangest looking children I had ever seen. They had wax-like skin, dark eyes, and their teeth looked like jagged stumps in their overly large mouths. But their clothes were plain, ordinary Muggle jeans and shirts."

"What happened next?" Teddy asked, his eyes as wide as saucers as he stared at Harry with rapt attention.

Malfoy had now made his way over to the other side of the chair and looked at Harry in much the same way as the group of kids, his post at the door completely forgotten.

Harry fought the smug smirk that threatened to show and continued his story. "Feeling confused I asked them, 'What are you dressed as for Halloween? Little monsters?' That was when I knew I was in trouble."

Teddy and Freddie cuddled in closer to Harry as Victoire finally leaned so far forward that she toppled over only to be righted by Malfoy who scooped her into his arms and sat himself at Harry's feet. His mouth was slightly ajar as he watched Harry who noted his trembling fingers when he tucked a chunk of blond hair behind his ear.

"What did they do?" Malfoy whispered, his hold on Victoire tightening like she was a security blanket.

"Well," Harry began and studied Malfoy's perfect features. They looked so vulnerable and so open that he was immediately assaulted with images of a five-year-old Draco and wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the blond and snuggle him. "Er," he cleared his throat, "the two children smiled these broad, leering grins before they said, 'No, tonight we're dressed as humans.' Filled with the sense of impending doom, I slammed the door shut and set the wards to keep the children out, but they didn't give up. I could hear the splintering of wood as the door started shaking and the windows started rattling."

A loud, whining sound from the group interrupted Harry's story. From the way that Malfoy was shaking and whimpering, Harry guessed the blond was the culprit.

"It's okay, Draco," Teddy reassured, jumping off of Harry's lap and scurrying over to the blond. He patted his cousin's back, the same calming gesture that Harry had used on Teddy countless times. "You can have my spot, if you want," he whispered and gestured to Harry's lap before taking Victoire's hand and guiding her to sit next to him on the floor.

Before Harry could protest, he was cuddling a trembling blond on his lap. "Wh-wh-what happened," Malfoy murmured and nestled in closer to Harry's body.

The man ignored the sense that having Malfoy that close to him just felt _right_ and continued his story. "Just when I thought they were going to break through the wards, everything stopped. I rushed over to the window and saw that the porch was empty." He gently rubbed soothing circles into the blond's back and was rewarded with a soft moan. "That's why I don't answer the door on Halloween anymore."

Teddy glanced at the others and beamed at Harry. "That wasn't scary, Harry," he declared and stood up, followed by the Weasley children. "Thanks though," he dismissed and skipped away.

Harry watched as his audience disappeared into the crowd of partygoers in search of trouble or candy or possibly both. Except for one. Malfoy still had yet to move form his position on Harry's lap and if he didn't get up soon, a certain part of Harry's body would.

Malfoy just felt too good.

"Er, Malfoy," Harry shifted and the blond scooted closer, "the story is over."

"I know," Malfoy whispered, his eyelashes tickling Harry's skin. "Nice try Potter, it wasn't scary." He sat up and fixed his wings, "At all."

"Really?" Harry asked, fixing Malfoy with an amused grin.

"Really," Malfoy drawled and glanced around the room, looking anywhere but at his former rival. "I should have known that you, of all people, couldn't tell a scary story if you're life depended on it. You can't seem to—"

A knock at the door cut Draco off mid-rant, sending the man back onto Harry's lap. He clutched at the other man's fireman's jacket and nuzzled into his shoulder. "It's them," he squealed, "they've come back for you."

Just then Molly Weasley opened the door to let Luna Lovegood, dressed as a peacock, inside. "Luna, dear, what are you doing standing out there all by yourself?"

"Trick-or-treating," Luna supplied with a dreamy smile and flitted away.

Harry chuckled and wrapped his arms around Malfoy, tucking the blond closer against his body. "You were saying?"

"Shut up, Potter," the blond hissed, "and rub my back."

**Reviews are lovely and appreciated!**


	7. Boo!

**Sorry this is so late in the day!**

"Boo!" the ghost screamed and wiggled its ghostly fingers. "Boo! Boo! Boo!"

Draco waved the ghost away with his hand. "Oh, you scared me," he deadpanned and continued to eat his morning waffles. He didn't let anything get in the way of his morning waffles—especially when they had whipped cream and strawberries on top—let alone a pesky little ghost.

"Boo!"

Draco popped his fork into his mouth and moaned. Merlin, it was delicious. "Go away," he told the ghost before eating another bite.

The ghost contemplated this for a moment. "Boo?"

"Yes," Draco replied around a mouthful of delectable goodness, "go away."

"Boo." The ghost flitted toward the door and stopped. "Boo?"

Draco heaved a deep sigh and set his fork down, which he did not do for anybody. He picked up the fork again and shoveled another bite of fluffy waffle into his mouth, chewing slowly as he regarded the ghost in his kitchen.

"Really, Harry," Draco drawled, "you want to be a ghost for Halloween this year?"

The ghost nodded emphatically and danced around.

"Well, I guess that's that then. But," he said and leveled a stare at his boyfriend dressed as a ghost, "if you were to go as a something with less sheets and white paint, I'd be able to lick whipped cream and strawberries off your body."

"I don't want to be a ghost this year," Harry called as he tore up the stairs, stripping down to his boxers with every step.

**Reviews are lovely and appreciated! :)**


	8. Harry's Problem

**Sorry I missed a day! Long story short, I was dealing with a little mister in the hospital with third degree burns. :(**

Harry awoke with a start. "Oh no you don't," he snarled, jumping to his feet from where he was curled up on the floor.

Everyday for a week it had been the same. He'd set out his newly crafted jack-o-lanterns at night and in the morning he would find them smashed. Not this time. Constant vigilance and the desire to catch the little shites responsible was enough for Harry to set up a stakeout in his living room.

Apparently he'd fallen asleep. The irony.

Flinging open the door, Harry raced onto the porch and met the culprit—a particularly _blond_ culprit.

"_Malfoy_?" Harry shrieked indignantly.

The blond shot Harry an angelic grin. "Potter, fancy meeting you here," he drawled without batting an eyelash.

"I live here!" Harry shouted, startling the only remaining pumpkin out of Malfoy's hands where it fell to the ground and broke, spraying Harry's porch with pumpkin guts.

"As pleasant as this conversation has been," Malfoy arched a perfectly sculpted brow, "I must be off."

It had only taken Harry a beat to gather his wits. "Come back here, Malfoy!" he screamed and tore after the blond.

"Fuck you, Potter," Malfoy called over his shoulder as he raced down the street.

**Reviews are lovely and highly appreciated!**


	9. Blond and Blonder

**This is a continuation of Harry's Problem.**

The hushed giggles were a dead giveaway. Harry hurried his steps along the sidewalk, the autumn leaves falling like raindrops around him. Not again.

It had been over a week since he had caught a certain blond decimating his poor, innocent jack-o-lanterns. Harry had even spent his nights monitoring his front porch and waiting for any sign of the blond. Not that he actually wanted to see said blond. He didn't.

Silently cursing his decision to take a walk, Harry broke into a trot. He was going to get Malfoy if it was the last thing he did.

When he was just outside his yard, he heard the telltale sign of mayhem followed by two sets of muffled giggles—one set was higher in pitch than the other. Before he could change his mind, he dove behind some shrubs and peered through the branches.

As predicted, Malfoy was standing on Harry's front porch as if he belonged there. Although seeing the blond gift-wrapping it with thick rolls of toilet paper was not something he had counted on. Nor was his partner in crime. In fact, apart from pictures in the Daily Prophet, Harry had never seen the small someone laughing victoriously as he put his foot through a jack-o-lantern. The little, toddler accomplice had shaggy, blond hair and a dimple in his chubby cheeks.

Even bashing in Harry's pumpkins, the little Malfoy was just too damn cute.

"That's my boy," Malfoy crowed in delight. "He won't know what hit him, Scorpius."

Watching as the two blonds shot each other twin grins of glee should not have made a warmth creep into Harry's chest. They were destroying his porch for crying out loud!

The little one squealed in delight as he pushed a pumpkin off of the railing, sending it smashing to the ground. "Again!" He shouted, tugging on the taller blond's sleeve. Harry couldn't help it. He smiled. The little guy couldn't have been more than two years old.

And watching Malfoy levitate pumpkins for the little tyke was in no way adorable. Especially when said blond smiled tenderly at his tiny clone.

Knowing he couldn't let the destruction continue, Harry leapt from his hiding place. "Malfoy," Harry shouted, taking the steps two at a time. He turned his eyes to the short blond who stared back at him defiantly—a blond eyebrow quirked in such a way that it looked like he was mentally calling Harry an idiot. "Malfoys," he corrected in a softer tone, trying to hide the amusement from creeping into his voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

As if they were statues, the two criminals froze in place.

"I can see you," Harry called crossly. "What are you doing?" He couldn't help but smile at the little toddler Malfoy, rooted to the spot with his blue eyes twinkling with mischief and his left foot sitting in the middle of a pumpkin.

With the speed of a snitch, Malfoy dropped the rolls of toilet paper and screamed, "Run!"

In the short span of time it had taken Harry's mind to catch up to the commotion, the toddler had kicked Harry in the shin, grabbed his father's hand and fled the confines of the porch. He scampered next to his father as fast as his tiny, chubby legs could carry him until they disappeared with a CRACK.

Harry wasn't fooled. He knew that at least one of the blonds would be back for an encore. When they returned, he'd be ready for them.


End file.
